


Day 24: Dance

by CommonEvilMastermind



Series: Sollavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Songfic, dance, murder on the dancefloor, published drabble, solavellan hell art challenge 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24057430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonEvilMastermind/pseuds/CommonEvilMastermind
Summary: Originally published as Ch 8 in Drabbles and Bits
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Sollavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721170
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Day 24: Dance

Chapter 8: Murder on the Dance Floor  
Summary:  
Lavellan fights to the rhythm of the rifts.

Notes:  
written as a song-fic prompt for anachromystic on tumblr. The song is Murder on the Dance Floor by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.

Chapter Text  
She heard no beat before the mark, no thrumming in her bones. Now the tempo threatens to undo her. Eyes wide dreaming, she lies awake, remembering the rush of the rhythm. Safety chafes, an unsettled itch, until she throws herself in saddle and makes her way like a woman drowning.

The rifts call, reaching, aching: the beat in her heart, in her head, in her bones. Dance, Inquisitor, the steps that beckon. Life and death are hip to hip, cheek to cheek. The demons wait – come dance, come dance. Let the world fall away. Step, counter step, whirl of fire, scrape of claws, never-ending snarl, scream. An ever-twisting melody. Don’t stop. No fear.

Dance.

But her companions? They trip. Step and slip. The rhythm breaks. The Veil stutters. Her blood pools red and the power goes away. After, she snarls at them and doesn’t know why.

Until the day that Solas leaves his library.

It’s a mission of some urgency – his friend, captured, needing help. She is getting used to saving people. The two of them and Cole: her spirit boy, steel and shadow. She thinks, sometimes, he hears the rhythm in the cutting of his blades.

At least, he does not trip her up as often as the rest of them.

She feels the echo in her heartbeat as they near the Plains. “What are you doing?” Solas shouts as she turns her hart, wheels away.

“A rift!” Cole says, his gray mare on her heels.

“We cannot stop,” the apostate spits, furious with worry.

“We cannot leave it,” she calls back. The beat of the rift washes into her veins: a poison lover, lyrium-call. The dance is not kind – if you stumble, you will bleed; if you fall you will die. It’s the only time she ever feels alive.

They come on the rift. It erupts, spitting demons on her grass, her earth, her sky. She grins and dismounts on a downbeat, icing the ground. A terror demon slips and Cole spins a knife into its chest. The dance begins.

This rift is a strong one, chaotic and wild. It pounds in her mind, unstoppable momentum. Demons scream their descant; magic makes the melody. She dances with the Fade. But the tempo only builds, rhythm rising until she cannot keep it, scrambles to stay upright.

She stumbles into a demon’s scream, right side weak, failing, falling –

Caught. Strong hands steady. Barrier borrows time. “Do not let them overwhelm you,” he says, and she feels it through his skin. Solas’ heart beats to the rhythm of the rift, to the rhythm of the Fade. His hands are steady, his eyes are wild.

“Yes,” she grins, and they’re moving together. The dance is in their bones. She knows without knowing: where he will step, the line of his staff, the curve of his hands. They support each other without words. Melody and harmony, support and attack. Their magic is music and they are the rhythm, the drumbeat, the dance.

She closes the rift in a clashing crescendo, and the silence is sudden. Stunning. They look to each other, matching smiles, wild eyes.

But he takes a breath, turns away. When he looks again, his mask is set “We must go,” he says. Mounts his horse.

She blinks, off-balance. He turns and rides away. He does not see her half-feral grin.

She has found her partner. They will dance.


End file.
